


Wanting To Be Close

by RomanTheBroman



Series: College Is Peak Chaotic Dumbass Time [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Lack of Communication, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Pre-Relationship, not understanding what constitutes as a gay thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24316081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanTheBroman/pseuds/RomanTheBroman
Summary: Grif can't seem to get a hold of Simmons. He's doing his best not to take it personally, but that's getting pretty hard to do. He just wants to see his best friend. Is that too much to ask for?
Relationships: Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons
Series: College Is Peak Chaotic Dumbass Time [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680583
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57





	1. Ghosted

**Author's Note:**

> So I was writing this part, but it was getting super long so I split it into two parts. This does me that chapter two is in the works though.

Grif wasn’t really someone who had a lot of regrets, but he sure as hell didn’t love his current situation. He thought this would be easy. Something that would require almost nothing from him, but provided a big payout. He made a fatal miscalculation though.

“Grif, stay still!” Donut scolded, probably coming to a similar conclusion as Grif.

“Dude, I am being fucking still. What are you going on about?,” Grif shot back.

“No, you’re not. You keep sinking further into the chair. You need to stay still or I need to start over.”

That’s the last thing Grif wanted, “Oh, hell no. We had an agreement. I sit still for forty minutes, and you buy me four Big Macs. I’ve been still, and it’s already been thirty minutes.”

“First off mister, I said this would _probably_ take forty five minutes. I did not say that once we hit that time that you’d be free to go. Second, you actually need to be still. The more you relax and zone out, the more you sink into your chair, and the more that happens the more your hair moves.” Donut was doing his best not to sound angry, but Grif knew that he was reaching his limit. “Also, I said I’d get you McDonald’s. I’ll only pay for an order a regular person would make.” He paused “Can you even eat four Big Macs?”he asked skeptically. 

“With fries,” Grif tacked on, gaining a horrified look from Donut, “and yes, easily.”

Donut seemed to be repressing that information as quickly as possible so he could keep trying to give Grif directions, “Listen, all that aside, could you please just sit up so I can finish drawing your hair. I have other drawings to finish for this assignment, several of which I need to do today. Please just use the tiny tiniest amount of your core to stay still for a bit longer,” he begged. 

“Donut, I actively avoid acknowledging that I have one. No.” 

When Donut messaged Grif asking to draw his hair for some weird composite portrait he was doing, Grif shot him down. When Donut said all he had to do was sit still and he’d be paid in food, he jumped at the offer. Not moving, and food; those were two of his favorite things. But now he was being told he had to put effort into this. What the hell was that about?

“Please, I need to get this done,” Donut whined. When met with Grif’s hard expressionless glare, he sighed and hung his head, “I’ll get you the Big Mac’s, could you just work with me a little.”

“Fine,” Grif conceded. 

“Really!” Donut’s head shot back up with excitement and disbelief. He looked like he wanted this to be true, but at the same time had zero faith in his friend, which was completely fair.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with.” Grif sat up and listened to Donut from then on out. For the most part that is. Donut wanted to fix Grif’s hair himself, and was promptly told to fuck off. Instead Donut told him what to do with it, and Grif did a half assed job until Donut said good enough. And sure his mind continued to wonder, but he did stop sinking into his chair. Well, not as much as he was before. Donut had to have known that he was only getting mediocrity when he asked Grif though.

They weren’t done as soon as Grif would’ve hoped, but they weren’t there forever. Thank god. The second Donut cleaned up his supplies, Grif hurried him into his jeep so they could get some food already. 

Normally it would take thirty minutes to get to the closest McDonald’s from campus. Grif made it in eighteen. He knew when to gun it and which routes had speed traps. His friends might like to joke that he’d eat anything, but that’s a damned lie. The food on campus was bland and shouldn’t even have the right to call itself food. Without a kitchen, and with no budget, fast food places were now his only link to palatable food. So he learned how to get there as quickly as possible without getting in a wreck. He tried to explain that to Donut as he floored it through a yellow light, but Donut simply refused to stop screaming that they were going to die. So much for Donut being the great listener he always claimed he was.

Donut finally calmed down once they got in line at the drive-thru. Sort of. He did look kinda shell shocked, but burgers wait for no man, so he’d just have to deal with it. Grif ordered for the both of them. He got himself his promised Big Macs and a coke. He assumed Donut was one of those heathens that would order a salad; so he got him that and a water. After they got their food they pulled into the parking lot to eat.

“Grif?”

“Yeah?” he replied with a mouth full of food.

Donut gagged a little before he continued, “Why did we go through the drive through only to eat in the parking lot. Why didn’t we just go in?”

“Oh my poor naive Donut. First off, my jeep is more comfortable than the seats they’ve got inside. Second, if we drove back to campus the burgers would have had enough time to cool off, and you need to eat them hot or there’s the point,” Grif enlightened. He had this whole routine down to a science.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

Grif grunted in agreement as he continued to eat. 

They continued in silence until Donut spoke up again, “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” he didn’t bother looking up at Donut. He simply continued to eat his fries and stare absently at his phone.  
“You’ve been checking your phone nonstop since we got to the drive-thru. Are you waiting for some important news?” Donut had finished his food a while ago, and with no other distractions he only had Grif to focus on. He didn’t like being watched like this. It made his skin crawl. Even worse, he didn’t even realize how much he had been blatantly checking his phone until now.

Grif locked his phone and shoved it back into his hoodie pocket, “Nah, nothing important.” He moved on to his final burger.

“Grif, if something is bothering you or on your mind-”

“Donut, nothing is bothering me,” he snapped, “and even if there was I wouldn’t tell you. I’d suppress and ignore it until I forgot about it, just like the average American.”

“That’s really not healthy,” Donut insisted.

“Yeah well, neither is anything I just ate, but boy does it feel great in the moment.”

“Okay, both of those things are a problem. You see that, right?”

Grif was no longer listening. He polished off the last of his food, and began to peel out of the parking lot. Donut was too panicked about Grif’s breakneck driving to continue, all of his attention switched to trying to get his seatbelt on. This kept him pressing the subject, and Grif was thankful for it. Yeah sure he was frustrated and kind of pissed right now, but no way in hell was he going to voice any of that to Donut. The guy would want to have a heart to heart, and to get all emotional. The mere thought of all of that turned Grif’s stomach in a way greasy fast food never could. 

By the time Grif pulled up to their dorm Donut was more than happy to leap out. Did Grif drive even faster on the way back just so he’d get this desired result? You beat your ass he did. The sooner he was alone, the better. 

With Donut gone, so was his sense of urgency. Grif took his time going back to the parking lot. Available spots were scarce, but what did it matter. It wasn’t like there was anywhere else he needed to, or wanted to be. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. There was somewhere he wanted to be, but that wasn’t an option right now. The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became.

When he pulled into a spot near the rear of the lot he took his phone back out. He knew that there wouldn’t be any new messages, but he couldn’t stop himself from checking. He looked to just confirm that he was right. Sure enough, there wasn’t a single new notification. What the fuck! He knew that Simmons got flaky the more deadlines started to pile up because he’s a nerd and a perfectionist, but it was getting pretty damn hard to feel like he wasn’t being ignored. 

This bullshit started roughly two weeks ago, and he had no idea why. At first Simmons would only leave a thumbs up or exclamation mark in response to every other one of Grif’s texts, but nothing else. That wasn’t a problem. The guy was stressed, and it’s not like he owed Grif his attention. That was fine, but then the bastard just straight up stopped replying. And it’s not like Grif texted him a lot, but they had plans damnit. All he wanted was to confirm if they were still on. A simple yes or no would suffice, but he couldn’t even get that. All he got was damned radio silence. 

What made this even worse was that these weren’t just ordinary plans. They were more of a tradition. During midterms and finals they would meet up after one of them finished a project and watch a cheesy sci-fi movie. It wasn’t an elaborate plan or anything, but it sure as hell cut tension in half, and Grif looked forward to it. Not to mention that with the way Simmons studied, this would be the only time Grif actually got to hang out with him. 

He looked at his text to Simmons from a few days ago saying he turned in a paper so he got to pick the movie. Then his gaze hung his following text. There weren’t many and they were mostly question marks but the last one said 'are you all right???’. That was two days ago. It felt like his phone was mocking him. 

In short, Grif wanted to scream. 

Once back to his dorm he decided that thinking was overrated and that he’d be better off without it. He got some microwaved popcorn and started absentmindedly watching one of the millions of cooking shows on Netflix. He didn’t know what the unnecessary twist to this one was and he didn’t care. He just wanted to have something on while he ate and zoned out. After that, well he figured he was overdue for a nap.

The show was boring as shit, but at least the food looked good. Like really good. He low key wished he could be a judge on one of these shows so he could be paid to eat amazing food while being a snarky asshole. It was the perfect career, but for now he had to settle for finishing off the butter on the sides of the popcorn bag. 

With the bag spotless he went to exit out of the half finished episode. That was when he heard his phone vibrate. He was a little embarrassed at how fast he got it out, and he didn’t feel any better when he saw that it was just a snapchat from Tucker. He opened the message and was pissed all over again. It was Tucker and Simmons at the dining hall. Tucker was looking at the camera with a cocky smile, which was just his smile, and Simmons was right next to him. He was hunched over eating soup, and without looking over was flipping off Tucker with his free hand. The caption said ‘Look I found a feral nerd!!!’

Something about seeing Simmons just sitting next to Tucker hammered in how frustrated he was with him. He could text him back right now. Hell, they live across the hall from each other. He could knock on his door and tell him in person. He had plenty of opportunity to either confirm their plans or cancel them. Yeah, he’d give him shit for cancelling, but he’d get it. Being straight up ignored for no reason, now that was something he couldn’t excuse. 

Grif decided to send Simmons one last text.

Grif 2:35 p.m. 

[ If I find out you’ve been avoiding me you’re fucking dead ]

Satisfied with his work, he began moving the excess shit off his bed. His phone buzzed again.

Tucker 2:27 p.m. 

[ Dude what just happened Simmons is acting like you just threatened him??? ]

Grif 2:27 p.m. 

[ bc I did ]

Tucker 2:28 p.m. 

[ wtf?! ]

[ why???]

Grif 2:28 p.m.

[ He knows what he did ]

Tucker 2:30 p.m.

[ Idk what I just got between but you guys need to sort it yourselves ]

Grif 2:30 p.m.

[ Tell that to simmons and while you’re at it tell that asshole text me the fuck back!!!!!! ]

Grif waited a few more moments, but there was no response. He didn't know what he expected, but he was hoping Simmons would stop being a bitch and respond to his challenge. This was what he got for hoping. He did what he could. Now, for that nap. He put his phone on do not disturb and passed the fuck out.

When he woke up it was five thirty-six. He checked his phone on reflex and mentally cursed himself. There was still nothing from Simmons. Whatever. The ball was in his court, and Grif just needed to not think about it. He got up and grabbed his pack of cigarettes out of his hoodie pocket. When he opened it he was just met with more disappointment. It was empty. Simmons would always get on him for shit like this. He didn’t understand why though. How else would he know if he was actually out or had just misplaced them. It was a pretty smart strategy really. Simmons never appreciated any of his ideas… God, he was really doing a shit job about not thinking about him, huh? He shook off the thought and grabbed his keys and shit so he could pick up some more cigarettes at the gas station.

While he was out he also grabbed some flaming hot cheetos, and a bottle of cheap whiskey from the liquor store across the street. Grif might not be twenty-one yet, but people normally pegged him for roughly twenty-five, so he rarely got carded. That was fine with him. It wasn’t his problem that other people were too lazy to check, but on the down side, this also meant that Tucker would ask him to do booze runs for him. Not sure why though. The guy went to a shit ton of parties. Grif figured that he’d never have to actually pay to drink because of that. Guess he had to have a plan B in case campus was dead. 

Grif drove around aimlessly for a bit before heading back to campus. This was supposed to be relaxing, but he just felt bored and tired. That feeling didn’t change when he got back either. He simply didn’t feel like doing anything. He just turned in a paper the other day and he still had plenty of time until his next deadline. It was only midterm time for semester long classes anyway. He weighed his options and decided that eating pizza rolls and watching Revenge of the Sith was the best use of his time. This was arguably the best of the prequels, and what he would’ve watched with Simmons. Whatever, it’s not like he needed him to have fun. He was just fine as is. He’ll watch the movie, dick around on his phone, then turn in. A perfect night.

* * *

When Grif woke up it was two a.m. and he was drenched in sweat. Despite it not being that cold out the school apparently felt the need to blast the heat. Grif ran hot like a furnace so saying he couldn’t handle heat was an understatement. Knowing that this would be his life until it actually got cold he thought _fuck me I guess_ and decide to take a cold shower to cool off. He didn’t want to be showering at two a.m., but sadly it was the only way to stop feeling like human soup. At least it was an incentive to actually bathe. He’d been sort of neglecting his hygiene lately. Nothing too bad, but he probably needed this.

Grif grabbed his towel and shower caddy, and made his way to the communal bathroom at the end of the hall. The whole hallway felt disgustingly hot and the bathroom felt worse. It wasn’t just hot in there, but it was also incredibly humid. He was already gross and sweaty so the humidity was like adding insult to injury. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this gross, but it didn’t last long. He brought the water just above freezing, hopped in, and fuck did it feel great. At first he just stood there with his face turned up into the cool spray. This was exactly what he needed after the shit week he’s been having, and he was going to enjoy it for as long as possible. 

Once he was fully cooled off and clean he dried off, wrapped his towel around his waist, and began to make his way back to his room. At this point it was at least two thirty, maybe later, after all Grif just stood still in the shower for really a long time before actually bathing. Anyway, it was the middle of the week and it was incredibly late, and yet there was someone in the hallway. They were going in the same direction Griff was headed and were a good distance away. Normally Grif wouldn’t have given two shits about some other random person being up right now, but this wasn’t some random person.

“Simmons,” Grif called out, loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to disturb anyone who might be sleeping.

Simmons froze in place, but did nothing else. He didn’t even have the courtesy to turn around or anything. This was really going to a bitch and a half wasn’t it?

“You gonna say something, or at least look at me?” Grif continued, slowly closing the gap between them.

Simmons took a deep breath then turned around to face his friend. Simmons opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes went wide, and his face went red. He started stuttering and then stared straight up at the ceiling. “Why are you in a towel?” his voice was pitched up several octaves. 

“Keep your voice down. You want to wake the whole hall?”

“Right,” he said, his voice more controlled, “but why ar-”

“Because I just took a shower. Now that we got that over with can you actually look at me?” 

Simmons reluctantly met his eyes. He looked like he was seconds from self destructing. It was probably taking all of his will power not to, or at least Grif hoped that that’s the reason he still wasn’t talking. “Well?” Grif pressed.

“Well, what?”

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

Despite what Grif thought was physically possible, Simmons' face somehow got even redder. “You want to talk about this now?” his eyes darted down just briefly, and then laser focused back on Grif’s own.

“Yeah, considering how hard it was to get a hold of you. Especially since this was just pure luck.”

“I get what you’re saying but-”

“But what,” Grif demanded.

“Can’t this wait until the morning?”

“No it fucking can’t. You’ve been a total ass, and as your friend I have the right to know why.”

“Yeah, alright, alright. Let’s do this,” he conceded. He looked ashamed. Good. 

“We can talk in my room.” Grif started making his way to his door.

“Wait, why.” For some reason he was panicking again. 

“Do you really want to do this out here?” Apparently that was enough of a threat, and he followed Grif inside.

Simmons stood in the center of the center of the room like he didn’t have a clue what to do. This guy was the living embodiment of awkward sometimes. “Sit or something,” Grif instructed. 

Grif still couldn’t tell if Simmons refused to look at him because he knew he was about to get chewed out, or because Grif was in just a towel. The first option he got. The guy was awkward and was being called out for being a dick in the middle of the night. Not to mention he had his backpack with him. He was probably just at the library and got ambushed on his way to bed. That seemed like a good recipe for Summons’ anxiety, but it still didn’t feel right. 

The second option made way less sense though. The whole hall shared the same showers. People were constantly walking up and down the hall in nothing but a towel or a robe. This really shouldn’t be that weird, and yet there was more tension than there should be.

Simmons looked around like he was weighing his options, and then sat on the corner of the spare bed, “So are you going to put on pants or…” he said looking at nothing in particular. Guess it was the towel thing.

“No, I was planning on talking to you with my dick hanging out,” Grif mocked, “Yes, I’ll put on pants. If you’d look in my general direction for more than two seconds you’d see that I’m trying to find some clean clothes.” Simmons made a noncommittal noise and Grif continued digging through his dresser. Nothing in his room was organized in the least. His dresser drawers included. It was taking a while to find a pair of boxers, and in that time Grif started to get a little uneasy himself. Why was Simmons so hung up on Grif being in just a towel? This sort of thing was commonplace, why was he acting like it wasn’t? Should he be more self conscious right now? Him and Simmons were completely alone in his room and Grif was one step away from being completely naked… Nope, that was ridiculous. Simmons just overthinks everything, and now he’s got Grif doing it too.

Grif eventually found some underwear that he then slipped on under his towel. After that he flung the towel onto one of the many piles of clothes, and then put on the first clothes he found, which was just a pair of black sweatpants and an incredibly faded shirt.

“You’re going to get mold by leaving wet towels everywhere,” said Simmons.

Grif was in disbelief. The guy hardly said anything to him for two weeks. He hardly said anything since he stopped him in the hall, and he wanted to take this time to criticize him? “Is that really what you want to say right now?” Grif asked.

Simmons didn’t reply. Grif huffed and sat at his own bed, “You’re really gonna make this hard aren’t you?” Silence, “What the fuck dude, you straight up ignore me for a week, and don’t act like you haven’t. You didn’t deny it when I texted you, and you didn’t deny it out there,” he said jabbing his thumb towards the hallway, “so you gonna tell why?”

He watched as Simmons fidgeted on the other bed. He kept opening and closing his mouth. He clearly wanted to say something, but he couldn’t seem to get the words out. Grif wanted to press him harder, but he knew that’d only make Simmons more nervous and flustered than he already was. Instead he restrained himself and waited for his friend to gather his thoughts.

“I can’t tell you,” Simmons finally blurted.

“Fucking bullshit. I deserve an answer and you know it.”

Simmons took a deep breath and continued, “Yeah, you’re right. I was a dick and that was uncalled for.”

“I think we already established that, Einstein.”

He earned a glare for that comment, but he starred right back. They both knew that he was right so it was very rewarding when Simmons relented and softened his stare.

“But I just can’t tell you why.”.

Grif sighed, “Then what are we even doing right now.”

“I don’t know. You’re the one who dragged me in here.”

The was the last straw, “Oh fuck off. I didn’t drag you anywhere. In fact, you’re free to go. Get out.”

“Come on, you can’t be serious?” he scoffed.

“I am. If you’re not going to tell me anything I want to go back to bed. I don’t need this bullshit.”

Simmons looked like he just got hit across the face. Seeing him like this neither made Grif satisfied, or upset. He just knew that he wanted this to be over.

“I’m not leaving. Look I’m sorry-”

“And you’re so good at expressing that,” Grif said with as much sarcasm as possible.

“But,” Simmons continued, “I can’t really give you details on why I did what I did.” Grif opened his mouth to protest, but was quickly cut off by Simmons, “I was going through some personal bullshit, and I handled it poorly. That’s on me.”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

“Grif, I’m sorry, and I really should have just texted saying I was busy instead of making you feel like I was avoiding you, but I’m serious. I can’t tell you what happened.”

Grif stared at him. The longer the silence hung in the air the more Simmons began to look uncomfortable again. He was probably fearing the worst.

“Fine,” Grif deadpanned.

“Fine? That’s all you have to say? Fine?” Simmons’ voice pitched and his face scrunched in frustration. He didn’t know why, but Grif liked it when Simmons looked like this. It was… funny? Oh, whatever it made him happy to see is all.

“Yeah, _fine_. What’s done is done, and we can’t change that.” Simmons’ face went slack with confusion.

“Look, I don’t want to say angry at you. I don’t have the kind of energy to hold a grudge like that, but if you’re really sorry-”

“I am.”

“Then,” he continued, “we can move on already.”

“Really?” He looked skeptical. Like there was a catch, and he wasn’t that far off.

“Really.” Simmons’ shoulder dropped. Grif didn’t realize how much tension Simmons was holding until now. He must’ve really been panicking, “but now I get to make you watch a movie worse than Revenge of the Sith.” Grif hoped he only had a slight grin on his face as Simmons cycled through emotions. He went from disbelief, too angry, too happy, and finally landed on annoyed. God, he loved his facial expressions. “So, are you free this weekend or not?”

Simmons sighed, “Yeah, I’m free on Friday. Just don’t choose something that’ll make me want to off myself.”

“No promises.”

“Why do I even try.” Grif shrugged. “Well, if we’re good I’m going to try to sneak into my room without waking up fucking Gene.” Simmons got up and started making his way to the door.

“Try not to kill the guy. I’m pretty sure that’s grounds for expulsion.”

Simmons turned around and had the gravest fucking expression, “No promises,” was all he said, before he let himself out. Grif let out a small chuckle. He loved how dramatic Simmons could get. It kept life interesting.

With Simmons gone, Grif got ready to go back to sleep. He opened the window a crack so he wouldn’t die of heat stroke in his sleep, and stripped to his boxers. He flopped onto his bed, and tried to relax, but his mind would not shut up for once. A small part of him was still annoyed at Simmons. He wished he had more details as to why he was ghosting him. It felt weird knowing that he was keeping something from him, but at the same time the two of them never really had any really personal conversations. It’s not like they only talked about nothing though. Yeah sure that was most of what they talked about, and they were good at it too, but they did casually mention some really personal details. 

The more Grif thought about it, the more he realized just how limited their conversations were. Like they knew what the other hated and loved and all of their highly specific opinions, but Grif was starting to realize he probably never even mentioned having a younger sister. He practically raised Kai and missed her so much some days. She was such a big part of his life, and his best friend probably didn’t even know that she existed. If Simmons didn’t know something as important as that, then what did Grif not know about him? 

This whole train of thought was insanely depressing. Simmons was his friend. His best friend. Things were fine. They were good. If they weren’t it’d be obvious. He was just in a mood and needed to think of happier things was all. Like what movie they were going to watch. Grif did not want to watch Revenge of the Sith again. It might be the best of the prequels, but that bar was so low it was on the ground. He tried to think of other movies, but he just couldn’t stop thinking about Simmons, and whatever was going on between them. He rolled onto his stomach and groaned onto his pillow. He hated everything.


	2. Normal-ish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grif's been looking forward to spending time with Simmons again, and it's finally time for their movie night. They had a fight recently, but that's totally behind them and no way is there going to be any tension there. Nope, it'll totally be like that fight never happened. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between getting a new job, and dealing with a laptop I can't get fixed this took forever, but not force on earth can stop me from thinking about these idiots, so enjoy.

For Grif, Friday could not come soon enough. Simmons might not have been actively avoiding him now, but they still didn’t get to see each other. Their schedules were just too different. Yeah sure, it’s literally only been a few days since they last saw each other, but that didn’t count. It’s not like they hung out or anything. They just had a tense conversation, and said see you later. So really, it’s like they haven’t seen each other in just over two weeks. This was all justifiable. 

So there he was, lying in the grass, smoking cigarettes in the courtyard by his dorm, pretending that he wasn’t a needy son of bitch who just wanted to see his friend. Nothing pathetic about that at all. 

He took another drag from his cigarette. As much as it seemed like whatever happened between them was just a fluke, and that they’d go back to normal now, he still felt like shit. He just couldn't shake the weird feeling he got after Simmons left his room the other night. Why would he even want them to know more about each other. They were great the way they were now. What’s the point in messing up a good thing? If he could just drop these thoughts, and never bring them up again, he’d be golden. So why couldn’t he just do that? 

He took another drag and blew the smoke up in rings.

“Damn, I didn’t know you could do that.” It was Tucker.

“Yup, I’m a man of many talents,” Grif replied flatly. 

Tucker scoffed as he sat besides him, “Yeah, no. I’m pretty sure a talent has to be useful.”

“First off, that’s bullshit and you know it. Second off, you’re just jealous that I can do cooler things with my mouth than you ever could.” He blew another ring.

“I’ve seen you eat. Your mouth is a crime against god.” Grif blew smoke directly into his face as a response. “Aw, fucking gross dude” - Tucker tried his best to fan the smoke away with his hands- “I don’t know how you and Church smoke those things.”

Grif shrugged. 

“Well, I was going to ask you what you were doing later, but it looks like you plan on being a dick.”

“Well I already have plans so I guess it doesn’t make that much of a difference.”

“Who do you have plans with? You talk to like four people.” To anyone else that would’ve been an insult, but Grif wasn’t a fan of socializing, and his friends knew that.

“Simmons.”

Tucker looked surprised. “I thought you two weren’t talking?”

“We sorted it out.”

“So he told you why he was acting weird?”

“He said it was something personal.”

“Really?” Tucker scrunched his face in a way that clearly said I call bullshit.

Grif sat up to better meet Tucker's eye, “Why, what do you know?”

“Not much. Just that when Donut saw him leave your room after we smoked, he looked really disheveled and stressed. Did something happen?” Tucker was trying to look all innocent, but Grif knew the nosy fucker already had his own theories. He just had no idea what those theories were.

“Nothing happened. I let him sleep in my room so his roommate wouldn’t turn him into our RA, and he left before I woke up. Nothing all that interesting happened. Just a whole lot of nothing.”

Tucker didn’t seem to be buying it. “You sure that’s all that happened?”

“Look, I don’t know what you expect me to say, but yeah. That’s it. Maybe he woke up to some bad news, and that’s what freaked him out. Like an email, or text, or a voicemail from his parents. He said it was something personal after all.” Grif didn’t know what Tucker was getting at, but he wanted him to shut the fuck up. He’d already driven himself crazy enough thinking up his own theories about what happened. Did it really have nothing to do with him? Was Simmons really okay now? Was there something he should know about? He was sick and tired of feeling like a paranoid idiot, and just wanted to give his brain some rest. In short, Tucker was draining the last bit of his sanity.

“Yeah, I guess you got a point there.” Why the fuck did he looked bummed about it? “It’s good that you guys are talking again though.” At least he seemed genuinely happy about that last part.

Grif laid back down and resumed blowing smoke rings. “Yeah.” He knew that his voice didn’t convey any actual joy, but he also knew that Tucker was done needling him. Thank god.

Tucker stayed for a few more minutes after that. He was talking about something Grif couldn’t care less about. It could have had something to do with a guy he met at a bar, or a tinder date. Again, Grif wasn’t paying attention, and he certainly didn’t care, but he let him talk nonetheless. During that time he started another cigarette, and thought about nothing. For the past few days his head had been overrun with nagging thoughts and unanswered questions. Right now he just let Tucker act as a white noise machine as he focused on blowing rings in various sizes and speeds. It was a good distraction.

When Tucker left, Grif went back to his dorm. Simmons would be out of class soon, and they were planning to meet up in the common room when he did. He stopped in his room first. If they were going to watch movies, they needed snacks. He made a few bags of popcorn in the microwave to share and grabbed a pack of oreos for himself. He piled the food into his arms and made his way down to the common room so he could make sure no one else had the tv. It was Friday after all, and most people tried to take it for one reason or another. He actually should have been there sooner, but he decided smoking took priority. If they couldn’t get the room because of that, Simmons was going to chew him out. He made his choice, though. So, the way he saw it, he’d just have to live with whatever outcome he got. 

The closer he got to the common room the louder the sound of the tv got. Fuck, Grif fucked up. Okay, no need to panic, he thought. He was perfectly capable of annoying whoever was in there enough that they’ll leave just to get away from him. Normally, just eating a shit ton while staring the person down was good enough to make anyone uncomfortable. These snacks were for the movie, but if he had to eat them so he could get the tv, well that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

He opened that door ready for confrontation, but instead he was met with a much better sight. It was Simmons. He was sitting on the couch, doing something on his laptop as HGTV blared on the tv. He stood there for a moment, confused, before moving towards the couch. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Grif asked.

Simmons looked up from his laptop, “My professor let us out early because, and I quote, ‘None of us were paying attention anymore’ and he didn’t have the energy to care.”

Grif flopped onto the left side of the couch. “Damn, I wish I had a teacher like that.”

“Yeah well-” Simmons stopped and crinkled his nose, “Dude, you smell like a fucking ashtray.” 

“Oh come on. I can’t really smell that bad.” He started smelling the arms of his hoodie. “I can’t even smell anything.”

“That’s because you’re used to the scent. Believe me, you reek of cigarettes.”

“Eh, whatever. You’re probably overreacting,” Simmons opened his mouth to protest, but Grif kept talking, “So do you normally watch home makeover shows in here, or is that normally a you time type of thing?”

Simmons rolled his eyes, “No, I just turned on the tv so people knew the room was in use. I wasn’t watching it,” he said, clearly unamused by Grif’s teasing, “Actually, this is what you should’ve been doing. How the hell did I even get here before you?”

“Easy, you got out of class early.” Judging by Simmons’ face, that was the wrong answer.

“I’m not sure what your lazy ass was doing before I got here, but at least be thankful that I’m responsible enough to get the room for us?”

“Of course I’m thankful. Now I get to do less work because of you. You have to admit we have the perfect system.”

“I hate you,” he said with the fatigue of someone who’s had this exact tone of conversation innumerable times. 

“Save your rage for after I show you the masterpiece we’ll be watching.” 

Simmons let out a long groan before he got up and plugged in his laptop to the hdmi cable. They long ago decided that they would watch all movies on Simmons’ laptop. It wasn’t an especially good one or anything. It’s just that Grif’s was a piece of shit. He got crumbs or something stuck in the trackpad and now the cursor acted on its own sometimes. Grif couldn’t afford to get it fixed so he just dealt with it, but something like that did make it really hard to watch anything.

Grif went up to pull up the movie he wanted. He just barely brushed against Simmons as he sat in front of the laptop. Simmons jerked back then went back over to the couch muttering something about how bad Grif smelled. He really didn’t think it was that bad. He hardly even chain smoked, but apparently it was enough for it to be bothering Simmons. He really needed to get over it.

Grif found what he was looking for and went back to the couch. “Are you ready to be confused about whether you want to laugh or shoot your brains out?”

“Sure,” Simmons responded dejectedly. 

As much as Simmons was acting like he hated everything that was happening right now, Grif knew most of it was an act. Being the nerd that he was Simmons loved tearing apart shitty sci-fi movies. It gave him a very specific sense of joy. He would get angry and worked up over all the little contradictions and shitty made up logic, but it was like the anger fueled him somehow. It was like the more he tore it apart the more superior and smart he felt. Grif didn’t entirely get it, he just knew it was fun to watch.

* * *

“What- what was any of that? Literally what the fuck was that!” Simmons looked like he wanted to say more, but was too confused by everything he just witnessed. 

“Eh, I feel like I could’ve chosen something worse.”

“What could’ve been worse than that?” Simmons asked, clearly confident that this was as bad as it got.

“Well I was reading the description of a movie about these aliens that kidnapped Santa, but I couldn’t tell if it’d be good-bad or just plain unbearable.”

“Yeah-but-it- ughhhh…” Simmons curled into a ball on his side of the couch.

“Are doing okay there, pal?” Grif asked, trying not to laugh at all the unnecessary drama. 

Simmons' voice came out muffled, and defeated, “The plot made no sense, Grif.”

“Yeah, but at least it was great to look at.”

Simmons’ head shot up, “Are you kidding me? The effects were terrible!” Simmons looked betrayed at the mere notion of Grif liking anything about this movie.

“Dude, relax. I meant that the actors were hot. Like I don't know what Channing Tatum was doing that entire time, but I know I liked looking at him.”

Simmons' face relaxed, but he still looked annoyed. “Can we watch something else? I need a palate cleanser.”

“Are you serious? Normally you go into thirty minute uninterrupted rants when I show you movies like this. Are you alright?”

Grif meant that as a joke, but he earned a very hard glare from him nonetheless. That hard look in his eyes took all wind out of his sails. Grif wanted to act like the past few weeks didn’t happen, and that they could just go back to normal, but it didn’t look like Simmons wasn’t there yet. He wished he could yell at Simmons to get over himself or to tell him what was wrong, but all he said was, “So what do you feel like watching?”

“I don’t care, as long as we’ve seen it before, and it’s actually good.” Simmons sounded bitter, and tired; like he wanted to bite somebody’s head off, but didn’t have the energy to do it.

“World’s End?” Grif offered.

“Sure.” Simmons still sounded pissed about something, but him agreeing to basically anything while pissed was a good sign. It meant he still wanted to remain reasonable. 

With that, Grif silently pulled up the movie. Neither of them made another sound until the movie hit its twist.

“Why blue?” Simmons asked in an absent minded tone that almost made it seem like he was talking to himself. Grif was so caught off guard by this he just stared at him confused. Grif’s reaction, or lack thereof, didn’t seem to phase him, and he kept talking. “So I understand that they can’t use red because they want to make it clear that they’re not human and that that’s not blood, but that shade of blue just makes it look like an ink cartridge exploded. Black would be a much better color. It could imply oil or something at least.” 

Grif found his voice and replied, “You know they’re not actually robots right. Implying that they’re filled with oil would send the wrong message.”

Simmons scoffed, “I know that. I just never understood why the duplicates were filled with that blue stuff.” 

“Does it matter?”

Silence.

Grif took that to mean that the conversation was over and looked back at the screen.

“Guess not,” Simmons finally said. Grif looked at him out of the corner of his eyes, and he seemed calmer than before. He had no idea why, but he was certainly thankful for it. 

As the movie continued the more things felt normal. Simmons was back to shouting his sarcastic comments at the screen, and Grif joined in. By the end of it, it was like the rest of the night didn’t even happen.

“All I’m saying is, I don’t see how any of that was possible,” said Simmons.

“Dude, it’s a movie where aliens replace people with perfect doppelgangers. It’s not supposed to be realistic and shit.”

Simmons looked at him like he was a moron, “I mean there’s no way that’d work in a small town. Nothing goes on in places like that, and you’re forced to get to know people whether you want to or not. Someone should’ve noticed when the first person got replaced,” he insisted.

“You’re probably right,” Grif agreed, “then they got replaced and so on and so forth. That’s why the whole town had been replaced. Did you not pay attention?” Grif knew exactly how to get under Simmons’ skin. If he was being honest, it was a little too easy.

“Yes Grif, I was paying attention,” he said, voice dripping with venom, “and if you were paying attention you’d understand that what I’m saying is, if the aliens really wanted to work with humanity they’d start in a more urban area. That way they wouldn’t have to replace the entire town so quickly.”

“Then the movie wouldn’t have happened.”

Simmons looked like he wanted to break something, “That’s what I’m saying!”

“Okay genius, if the movie never happened, then what would we have done for the last two-ish hours?”

“Watch something else!” Simmons screamed.

“Dude, keep your voice down. It’s past midnight. Do you really want someone to complain to the RA about how loud you’re being?” Grif wanted to play this off serious, but he couldn’t help smiling.

Simmons glared at him, “I hate you.”

“That hurts,” Grif replied in mock offense. Simmons rolled his eyes at this. “Oh come on,” Grif continued, “It’s not my fault that you want to suck up to someone who’s batshit.”

“He’s not that crazy,” Simmons insisted.

“He’s twenty-one, but has the personality of a Vietnam War vet. If you don’t think that’s crazy enough on its own, then you’re the dumbass, not me.” Simmons remained silent, “You know I’m right,” Grif insisted.

“I didn’t say that,” he said, a little too quickly.

“But you didn’t disagree.”

They simply stared at each other for a few more moments before Simmons said, “So do you want to watch another movie, or do you want to call it a night?”

Grif burst into laughter. Simmons refused to ever admit that he was wrong, in any sense, but normally he’d spew some convoluted logic to prove that he was “right”. The fact that he couldn't even come up with a reason why Sarge wasn’t actually crazy just proved that Grif was the one who was right; a fate that Simmons dreaded more than simply being wrong. But Watching him get super flustered as he heavily tried to avoid saying so was the perfect sight. He’d start stammering out multiple excuses at once and get weirdly accusatory, and if you pushed him hard enough his face would turn red.

“Shut the fuck up, Grif.” His tone said he was clearly pissed, but the slight red creeping up his face said he wanted this conversation to stop. Normally he’d only start turning red after giving a long winded rant about why he was clearly correct on every possible matter, not after some light teasing. Regardless of how out of character this was, Grif relented. 

“I’m done with movies for now. Wanna get something to eat?”

Simmons looked at him critically. “It’s past midnight. What is wrong with you?”

“Is it wrong to see how many orders of fries I can get for one meal swipe?”

“Yes!” Simmons screamed.

“Dude, we just talked about your volume control.” Simmons opened his mouth to speak, but then quickly shut it. Judging by the deathly look he had in his eyes, Grif guessed he was trying not to yell again, even though he clearly wanted to. That only played to Grif’s favor though. “So are you coming with me or not?” 

Simmons took a deep breath, simply said, “Fine,” in the most reluctant voice possible, and started gathering his things. With that the pair headed to the only place on campus that served food this late.

As they made their way over Grif couldn’t help but look at Simmons. He wasn’t blatantly staring, but it’s hard to ignore it when your friend is fidgeting like crazy. Simmons was repeatedly pulling up his collar, and raising his shoulders as close to his ears as possible. He kind of looked like a turtle trying to pull his head into his shell, but was miserably failing.

“Can you stop staring,” Simmons snapped.

Okay, so maybe Grif was being a little more blatant than he thought. “Sorry, you’re just pretty hard to ignore right now.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” His voice pitched in that dorky way Grif loved.

“Nothing. It’s just that you’re clearly freezing, and it’s making you do this weird turtle maneuver.” 

“Oh…” he said, slightly taken aback.

Grif scrunched up his face and gave a soft chuckle, “What did you think I meant?”

Simmons continued to try to pull his collar around his face, “I don’t know. It was a weird comment. I don’t know what you could’ve meant, but now that you said it, your answer is pretty obvious.” 

“God, for being such a nerd, you’re really a dumbass sometimes, huh.”

“Hey! I’m plenty smart,” Simmons protested.

“Then why don’t you have a better coat, or a hat?”

“It wasn’t nearly this cold earlier.”

“Yeah dude, it gets colder when the sun goes down. That happens pretty much every night.” Grif didn’t need to reiterate how ridiculous Simmons was being. His huffiness clearly said that he understood that for a person with such bad circulation, he really should have been more prepared. “So do you want to borrow my hoodie?” Grif asked.

“Hilarious,” deadpanned Simmons.

“I’m not teasing you. I’m wearing a denim jacket and a hoodie. I’m more than warm enough, and you clearly need the hood on it more than I do.”

“I don’t want your damn hoodie.”

“Why are you so stubborn? You can’t stop shivering and you look like fucking Rudolf. Just take it.”

“I’m fine. We’re almost there anyway.”

Grif considered pushing the issue, but he knew that Simmons was a stubborn ass. It’d be better to drop it for now. “Whatever, it’s your life.”

They continued in relative silence. The only noises between them came from Simmons. Mostly just the sound of him rubbing his arms, and him shivering. Why was he so fucking difficult? What’s the big problem with admitting he didn’t think ahead and was now freezing his ass off? If he could just admit that, he’d be warm right now, but no, that’d be too easy.

As they rounded the corner, the entrance to the late night dining hall came into view. Simmons started to pick up the pace, eager to get into a heated building. This display of increasing desperation and bullheaded stupidity caused Grif to make a noise somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. Normally he’d be waiting for Simmons to tell him to fuck off for teasing him, but he was so far ahead by this point; Grif highly doubted that he heard him. 

Once Grif got inside he saw Simmons immediately. He was waiting for him just beyond the door. He was bouncing up and down, and rubbing his arms frantically. He looked ridiculous. 

“Shut it,” spat Simmons.

“Dude, I didn’t say anything.”

“Not yet. You had that look on your face.”

Grif furrowed his brow, “What look?”

“You get a look before you say something stupid.”

“I do no-”

“Oh no you do. It looks like your regular face, but just way too fucking smug.” 

“Why not just say I look smug?” Grif asked, full on knowing how much Simmons hated it when people poked holes in his logic. “Also do you study my face or something because I seriously doubt I have a ‘I’m about to say something stupid face?”

“Go fucking order your food. I’m gonna go find a seat.” He was barely finished speaking before he started walking off.

“Great conversation,” Grif yelled after his friend. “Bet he wouldn’t be so bitchy if he had a better jacket,” he said to himself as he went to get his food. 

* * *

“Five,” Grif said as he plopped into the seat across from Simmons.

“What?” Simmons said in a tone that made it seem like he was more confused that someone was talking to him than anything else. 

When Grif walked into the room, Simmons was sat on the couch on the far right corner. His knees pulled so close to his chest it looked like he was trying to collapse in on himself. Odds are he didn’t notice Grif walk up. So although his confusion was justified, it was still kind of self imposed. There was a very simple solution to not being a human icicle, but whatever. It’s not like Grif was the one with chattering teeth.

“I can get five orders of fries for one meal swipe,” Grif continued.

“Please don’t eat all of those.” Simmons half heartedly pleaded. 

“Is this our cholesterol? No? Then let me do what I was meant to.”

“Which is…?”

“Enjoy life through food.” He got to work on the first bag of fries.

“Whatever.” He sounded weird. There was none of his normal combative energy. He just seemed tired, or defeated. Grif thought about asking what was up, but then he remembered the last time he asked something like that. He turned his full attention back to his fry mountain.

“How’d you know I was back here?” asked Simmons.

“Because this is the room with the huge radiator you can sit next to. Where else would your frozen ass be?” Simmons simply hummed in agreement and pulled his knees back up to his chest.

Grif was soon on to his third order of fries, and was starting to regret his decisions. He ate all those snakes in an absent minded haze. Only just now did he begin to realize how much he’s eaten. He began to weigh his options. He could stop eating, but then Simmons would give him shit for ordering so much and not even being able to eat it all. As much as Simmons hated admitting he was wrong, Grif equally hated letting him know that he was right. 

“Would you do it?” Simmons asked out of nowhere, forcing Grif out of his own head.

“Uh, do what?”

“Transfer your consciousness into the best version of yourself, and give up your actual self?”

They sat quietly for a moment as the question hung in the air. Grif was the first to break the silence. “Did you smoke up while I was gone?”

Simmons rolled his eyes. “No, you dumbass. I was just thinking about the movie.”

“And that proves you’re sober how?”

“Forget it.” Simmons slouched further into his seat

“No.” 

Simmons looked back up at his friend. “Why are you so fucking stubborn? I said-”

“I mean, no, I wouldn’t do it,” Grif corrected.

“Really?” Simmons didn’t seem convinced

“Yeah, totally. If a complete douchebag with no life can turn down that offer, why wouldn’t I. I’m so much better off than anyone in that movie anyway.”

“Yeah, but isn’t it at least a little tempting to become your perfect self. To just get rid of everything you don’t like about yourself. You can’t tell me that’s not a little bit appealing.” Simmons seemed pretty convinced that he was making a strong point, but Grif couldn’t see it. 

“Are you sure we were watching the same movie, because I’m pretty sure it was explained how that kind of perfection is bullshit. Not to mention I feel like a version of me that’s changed by an outside force like that is just a different fucking person.”

“Ok your concept of self aside, what about your appearance? You’re telling there’s nothing you’d like to change about the way you look?” 

“No, you fuck, believe it or not, I like myself.” Grif really didn’t want to argue with him again, but that didn’t mean he was about to put up with whatever this bullshit was.

“That’s not what I meant-” Simmons looked hurt that Grif can interpret his words like that, but if it wasn’t some sort of jab, he should really think before he opened his mouth. Wasn’t that the sort of shit he got on Grif all the time about anyway?

“Yeah? Then what did you mean?” he pushed.

“See, this is why I told you to forget about it. Can you just go back to you eating your fries and me being horrified by how you seem to do that with little to no effort? I’d really prefer that right now.” He was talking too fast, and was squirming where he sat. Like if he positioned himself just right, Grif would no longer be able to see him. He was clearly lying through his teeth.

“You’d never prefer that, and you don’t just get to say that you think there’s something wrong with the way I look then tell me to drop it.”

“I never said that.”

“Really, cause it sure sounded like it.”

“I was trying to say something else.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what? Where could that have been going?”

“Look, I-”

“I just want to know, if it wasn’t a jab at me, why were you pushing me like that?”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you okay. You look perfect as you are. I just thought-” 

“Oh?” Grif raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah and-” Simmons froze. The realization of what he just said caught up to him. His face turned the same color as his hair. As Simmons was trying to push past the modification of the situation he created, desperately thinking of anything new to say that wouldn’t put another foot in his mouth, Grif found himself in his own tricky predicament. Now, he really did want to know what Simmons was on about with the whole perfect self shit, but he also didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to roast his friend. An impossible decision really.

“So you think I look perfect?” Okay, maybe it wasn’t that hard of a choice, and the sheer panic of Simmons’ face told him that he made the right one.

“Look, I just wanted you to get it through that thick head of yours that I wasn’t insulting you, and I was over correcting to get you to calm down okay.”

“So you decided to call me perfect?”

“You’re not fucking perfect. You treat the library like it’s some sort of nap zone, and I'm pretty sure your room has become its own self sustained ecosystem.”

“Yeah, but you said I look perfect.” 

“You’re such a dick. I just didn’t want to fight again and panicked, ok?”

Grif laughed, “You’re really easy to get worked up, you know that, right?”

“Eat your fucking fries, and let’s go.”

“No one’s making you wait for me. You can go whenever you like.” Grif pointed out.

“Yeah but…” he shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“You’re still too cold to even try to go back outside, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said in the least convincing voice possible. 

“You’re making yourself miserable, you know?”

“Eat your fucking fries,” was all he had to say before moving as close to the radiator without actually putting his body on it.

Grif considered prodding him a bit more, but figured that Simmons had reached his limit for the night. So he let the nerd brood as he finished his food. At least their argument gave Grif his second wind, and he continued to conquer his mountain of fries with ease. Unfortunately, this silence also gave him time to think. If he wasn’t trying to insult Grif when insisting there must be something that he’d want to change about himself, then what was he actually getting at? Was he actually talking about himself? He knew that Simmons was an anxious mess, but was his self esteem also in the trash?

You know what? No. Grif was probably still too in his head from when he realized that him and Simmons don’t actually know that much about each other. This probably wasn’t that deep, and Simmons was probably just trying to get into some weird philosophy rant about ‘true self’, and he derailed it. That’s probably it, plain and simple.

When his food finally ran out, he wordlessly got up, threw away his trash, and threw his jean jacket on top of the miserable looking Simmons. 

“What that fuck?” he said, fumbling to get the jacket off of himself.

“We’ve been here for almost an hour, and you’re still shivering. Just put it on and let’s go.” He didn’t wait for a response, and was already out the door.

Not too long after Simmons came rushing out the door in an attempt to catch up. He looked pissed, but he wasn’t shaking nearly as much now that he was wearing Grif’s jacket. It was a little funny looking if he was being honest. It was just hard to take Simmons seriously when he was drowning in a sea of denim. 

“Shut up,” Simmons grumbled.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You had that look on your face again.”

“I don’t have a look.”

“Yes you do,” he said matter of factly. 

Grif simply didn’t care enough to argue that Simmons was clearly making things up, so the two just walked in silence back to Red Dorms. This time, with a distinct lack of teeth chattering coming from Simmons. Grif should’ve been totally at ease right now, but he just wasn’t. The tension from earlier was gone, but there was still a strange energy in the air that he just couldn’t put a name to. Like they were just askew of normal, but he couldn’t tell in what direction. This feeling nagged at Grif’s mind. 

So on they walk, both too absorbed in their own thoughts to talk to the other. Wordlessly they entered their dorm hall. The silence was only broken when Grif said, “Night,” to Simmons as he entered his respective room. Simmons made some sort of strangled sound, that might have been him trying to get Grif’s attention, but he simply didn’t care. The mental acrobats that he performed tonight wore him out. He just wanted to sleep.

* * *

After ten beautiful hours of being unconscious Grif stared at the ceiling. The only thing that willed him to get up was the want for breakfast. That being said, he moved with zero sense of urgency when getting ready. He still felt completely exhausted after all. Existence can be a total scam sometimes. If you slept more than eight hours you shouldn’t be able to feel tired when you get up. It’s kinda fucked up when you think about it. 

He found clothes that were reasonably clean and got dressed. He was just about ready to head out, but he needed to find his jean jacket. It had his lighter and cigarettes in it, and he’d be damned if he had to go out more than necessary. He looked high and low, but couldn’t find it among all of the other shit he had laying around. He could almost hear Simmons' voice ringing in his head saying that he wouldn’t have this problem if he wasn’t such a slob. That neat freak gave him such a headache sometimes. Why couldn’t he… shit! He never got his jacket back from him last night. He was too fucking tired from the day’s bullshit to even remember it existed.

Still cursing himself he took out his phone. Simmons was an earlier riser so he’d be long gone by now. He just had to hope that he could get a hold of him.

Grif:

[Getting Breakfast at the main hall. Bring my jacket]

Now all that was left was to hope that Simmons decided to respond to his texts again. Well, that and to get some waffles and a mountain of bacon. He deserved it after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next part I'm working on is what I'm calling the Halloween Saga. The Reds and Blues are going to crash a frat party. Everyone's going to do some things they may or may not regret in the morning, but with any college party, you gotta pre-game. That's where the next part starts.

**Author's Note:**

> So chapter two is coming and I am continuing with this series, but I am an essential worker with a shitty laptop whose schedule just got worse so updates are going to take more time than I'd like. I might start splitting parts into two chapters more often to help alleviate this, but nonetheless I'll keep writing.
> 
> The next chapter is all about their totally-not-a-date movie date.


End file.
